


Open Wounds

by Seventypercentstupid



Series: Ethan Ramsey one shots [2]
Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mentions of Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventypercentstupid/pseuds/Seventypercentstupid
Summary: MC turns up at Ethan’s door injured and in need of a hot shower and patching up.
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart)
Series: Ethan Ramsey one shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061900
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Open Wounds

Rain had been in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon on Monday. It took a huge toll on traffic; roads were closing and bus routes were being changed or put on hold indefinitely. The streets were in no shape for anybody to be out. 

Despite knowing that, she paid no mind to it, trudging through the dark and empty streets. Instead, she kept going, she ignored the pain in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heel made her inhale sharp breaths with every step. She ignored the piercing pain in her back when she tensed, which was quite often out in the cold, wet open. The throbbing pain at the back of her head didn’t make her waver, didn’t make her stop, not when she was soaking wet and alone at night in the middle of town, not when she had somewhere she needed to be. 

Another lie. It wasn’t a place she needed to be, but rather a place she (wanted) yearned to be, and maybe she wasn’t welcome. It wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, not when she disappointed everyone, and herself, but she didn’t have many options left. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, maybe she could’ve gone somewhere else, maybe she would be better off facing the “how could you”s and “I thought you were better than this”, she  _ should’ve  _ gone somewhere else, anywhere else. 

She should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower, and ignoring the worried cries from Elijah. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Sienna draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to Bryce’s window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep. 

Then what was she doing there? Why was she knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, without a clue of how the rest of the night would play out?

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going as far as the small chain near the top would allow. She was met with the all familiar sight of those deep blue eyes, and in a flash, they were wide in shock. 

She couldn’t blame him, she could only imagine what she looked like. It was very obviously not an appealing sight if the numbness in her bones had any say in it, but something in her was convinced it wasn’t how she looked like that caused him to instantly freeze up. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” her voice sounded hoarse, even to her, but she guessed it was just loud enough for him to hear seeing as just a moment later the door was shut, the sound of the chain being unlatched, before he opened the door fully. 

He looked good. Dressed in pajama pants and an old t-shirt, but still good, considering the last time she had seen him. He looked fresh out of the shower, something that she assumed to be a sign that he didn’t have anyone over.

Ethan hated leaving people waiting. A habit that they apparently did not have in common. He moved aside, and she wasted no time stepping into the warm space.

“J-just a second,” he said before running off inside, returning with a towel that he laid across the floor, “don’t want to ruin my floors.”

She snorted, he was still as stuck up as she remembered, “think you could spare me one?” she hadn’t stopped shivering, not even after feeling the warm heating from inside his house. 

“I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch some of those cuts up, I’m awfully good at dressing wounds,” she smiled, ‘I\it looks like you need it,” he gestured to her head, where a small gash across her forehead was, or at least it felt small, she couldn’t really tell. 

“That’d be nice,” she cleared her throat and removed her shoes. She stopped after stripping off her jacket, standing awkwardly and staring at him, hoping that he’d take the hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again, “you’re acting as if I haven’t seen this before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I’ll throw them in the dryer for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched since she was there last. 

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself to forget about those warm but distant thoughts. 

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain. He felt close. 

“I brought a towel. And some fresh clothes,” there was some shuffling, before he sighed loudly, “did you eat? Can I get you something?” 

“No, I’m fine. Thanks,” she cut him short, trying to ignore his caring side that he never showed the public. She wasn’t different from anyone else in the world, not anymore. That’s what she tried to tell herself.

“I know you,” he said, “which means I know you had a cup of coffee this morning and called it a day. I’m not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I’m positive it didn’t happen over a meal,” Ethan sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. 

Her silence gave it all away, and he clicked his tongue in assurance, “I’ll make you something quickly.”

There was no resisting the water building up in her eyes. Pain expanded all across her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to tell if she let all her emotions flow behind the curtain, there would be no tear tracks left behind on her bruised face after. 

It might seem odd to others, to those who see him as a public figure, as the heartless doctor. He carried power, and never let anyone outside those doors see his vulnerability. To them, he was a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Ethan.

He was sensitive, caring to those closest to him, acting like he was with her just now. The doctors that gossipped about him were full of shit, they didn’t have any right to criticize him because they didn’t know the real him.

Of course, he was passionate about his job, but they didn’t know how he was in the mornings. They didn’t know what his favourite meal to have after a long, bad day was. They didn’t know what he wanted to do most after a 24 hour shift. About his constant need to have a book in his hands before he slept. Sometimes he didn’t even read, he just liked the feeling of the cover in his hands. About what he looked like, or how he smiled and laughed when he was in complete bliss, when he didn’t think about his worries, when he was  _ really  _ happy. 

No, they didn’t know, but she did.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding all the red and stinging open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and sweatpants, she eventually found Ethan in the kitchen, hunched over files scattered across the table, his hand on his chin as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

Taking advantage of his distracted self, she took in the house. She knew she shouldn’t, she knew it would only cause her pain, more so than the raw wounds she had, it was a different kind of pain. She knew it would only hurt her, or worse, it would resurface feelings she had pushed down long ago, ones she used to treasure once upon a time.

She couldn’t help but stare at the wall beside him, where framed photos of the most important times of his life were hung up. There were a few of him as a child with his dad, a few of him and Naveen, a picture of him on his graduation day, wearing a new pristine white coat.

Her eyes trailed down below those photos to the empty space on the wall, the missing centerpiece. The frame that had once held the picture of them holding hands, smiling as widely as they could. She remembered that day, how the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, wanting to capture the perfect photo of the piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but yet held so much promise.

The thing that was  _ supposed  _ to hold promise. 

Was she entitled to be sad that he had taken it down? No, she didn’t deserve to be angry or disappointed that it was no longer hanging on the wall, a constant reminder to anyone who walked by of what was no longer.

“Food should be ready soon, I just put it in the oven to warm up,” she jumped when her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Thanks,” she said as he walked closer to her, barely a foot away when he lifted his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard when she realised what she had done. 

He slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes, eyes that made her feel sorry for him, “I didn't- I wasn’t going to-”

“I know,” her voice quivered, but her hard expression never faltered, her eyes focused on the floor. 

Nodding, he cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, coming back with a tube of ointment, “we should clean your wounds, you know you’re risking infection the longer it’s uncovered.”

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just her luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel his soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she’d like it better if it were under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her cuts and bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. He shook his head slightly, and she didn’t know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, he pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions and she smiled sadly.

_ “Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?” _

_ “I can’t, Ethan! You don’t understand why, but I just can’t-” _

_ “Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don’t you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, why can’t you just trust me on that?” _

_ “I do! I trust you with my life! That’s the problem!” The room grew silent, Ethan formed a sudden frown, his eyes were teary. _

_ Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so she quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction. _

_ Lost in her own self-deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting a fire under every one of his touches. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. He wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. She allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook. _

_ “We’ll get through it,” he whispered, his own voice a bit shaky, “together.” _

There used to be moments where she would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew he would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times she experienced such ache, Ethan never turned her away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Ethan, not again.

“It’s okay, Rookie,” apparently, him knowing exactly what she was thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go…” it sounded like a promise she so helplessly wanted to hold on to.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it was just this one last time.


End file.
